


Wrath of Revan: SoR Remix

by fadesfanfic



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadesfanfic/pseuds/fadesfanfic
Summary: It's been two years since Jedi Knight Messilandre Melina defeated the Sith Emperor, but she still is seeing visions of his destruction, even when she should be focusing on protecting the Republic from cultists that worship the ex-Jedi Revan. To finish the fight, she needs the information her ally Scourge possesses - and to finish an assassination plot 300 years in the making.





	1. Chapter 1

Hyperspace – Now

Messilandre Melina considers herself to be the ideal Jedi.

Every day, she wakes up at four and begins practicing for four hours. First hand to hand, then simple saber manipulations and moves, then lightsaber forms, single handed and jarkai – double handed. She doesn't only practice Ataru, her favored combat form. She practices all seven. She refreshes Shii-Cho for when she needs to teach the first form to a student and show them Jedi history, works on Soresu for when she needs extra defense, and so on and so forth. It is her singular goal to commit as many lightsaber manipulations and fighting techniques as possible to muscle memory. 

If she's in hyperspace, she'll easily practice for another four hours or more. What else is there to do but hone yourself into the weapon the Order needs? She'll spar Kira and Scourge, and still be practicing long after they've both gotten bored or sick of it.

She ends her day with only Ataru, to make sure she's on top of her game, and then a meditation session to quicken the healing of her muscles and allow herself to sustain on less sleep, so she can spend more time practicing. She is – she should be – purely dedicated to this. Any instant you aren't training to fight for your life or protecting the innocent is a wasted instant – when you lie dying in a ditch because you didn't practice enough, you'll regret it then. That is her philosophy.

She's been told this makes her very exhausting to be around. Kira's told her so; Doc's called her a kill-joy; Teeseven would rather be talking. Only Rusk and Scourge seem to approve.

It's Scourge's approval that gets to her. Anytime she does something he thinks is good, she instantly questions her judgment. He's a Sith, which makes him her mortal enemy. Him helping her stop the Emperor never changed her mind about this. She imagines he did it purely out of self-interest. If all life in the galaxy is destroyed, after all, he would also be destroyed. 

Earlier, Scourge needed her help. She was the one “destined” to kill the Emperor – though whether she believes it was destiny or her superior skill, she can't decide. Now, she needs his help. Revan, his old ally, has reappeared, and intends to take on the whole Republic. Their raid on Rakata Prime proved that. And her vision of the life in the galaxy being extinguished, the one that sent her to Rishi, was too painful to ignore. It could be a resurgence of the Emperor - he had the same goal, after all.

So, she takes a deep breath, and decides to know her enemy. She knocks on the door of Scourge's quarters, and he opens it with the Force, not moving from where he was sitting.

“Scourge,” she says. “I need to know about Revan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 years ago, Lord Scourge receives a vision of all life vanishing from the galaxy, but before he can do anything about it, he has to protect himself from the Sith infighting that characterizes Dromund Kaas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is part of a sub-plot (the plot that Scourge is telling Messilandre, that got introduced to us in chapter 1) that is my continuity's answer to the Revan book.

Dromund Kaas – 300 years ago.

Lord Scourge is a Sith. He prides himself on being above fear – though it is a necessary emotion for a Dark Side Force user, _inspiring_ it is much better than feeling it.

But he is afraid. 

He has been assigned to work for the Sith Emperor, and shortly after that, he received a vision. All life in the galaxy had withered and died, with only a singular, powerful presence remaining – that of the Sith Emperor. He has never tried to listen to the Force like this. Listening to the Force is for the Jedi, using it is for the Sith. But he couldn't avoid it, and now he is afraid.

The Emperor has been using Lords in his recent missions, which Scourge views as highly unusual. A Darth would have more knowledge. Perhaps a Darth would be able to sense what his plans are. Perhaps a Darth would oppose him. But the only Darth Scourge that has seen around is Darth Ischiros, an older human Scourge would hardly consider a threat. His Lords were the ones Scourge kept his eye on. They disappeared earlier today – all three of them. Scourge wants to know what they're up to.

He starts off towards where he knows they were last – Darth Ischiros's office. Ischiros has been unaggressive towards him thus far. If he plays his cards right, he can probably get information.

When he arrives outside the Sith Sanctum, however, the entrance is blocked off. Imperial Officers have set up a perimeter around it. A Sith Lord is scolding one of the guards, and Scourge can feel their hand on the cusp of clenching to choke the life out of them. 

He does nothing. The guard is not his concern. He walks up to speak with an officer.

“My Lord,” the officer addresses him. Scourge knows he's never met this man before in his life, so he has no way of knowing he's a Sith Lord. But on Dromund Kaas, it pays to be respectful to pureblood Sith with lightsabers.

“Officer,” Scourge says. “Tell me what happened here.”

“There was a break-in in the Sanctum,” the officer says. He sweats a little. In the Force, his fear is palpable. Sith aren't known for taking failure well. “Some data files are wiped. We're still trying to figure out what was taken.”

“Surprising none of the Sith sensed it in time to stop it,” Scourge says.

The officer relaxes a little. He must assume he's not on the front line to get blamed – at least not by Scourge. 

It is the guards fault. They were guarding. But the Sith should've sensed something. Really, someone being able to break into a building full of Sith is just _embarrassing_. 

“Someone did sense it. Lord Tenacus,” the officer says. 

Scourge waits.

“They found his head, my Lord. It was removed with a lightsaber.”

Scourge knits his brow. He feels an instinctive desire to clutch his own neck – he's been worried about Sith infighting ever since he sensed the Emperor and the other Lords, and now it looks like it's spilled into the Sanctum. But he suppresses it. Appearing worried would be an admission of weakness.

“What data files are missing?” Scourge asks. What was stolen could narrow this down, so he can suspect who did it.

The officer frowns and repeats “We're not sure yet, my Lord. Something in Ischiros's office.”

Scourge walks straight past him. The officer yells for him to wait.

“No one's allowed in or out of the building,” he says.

Scourge doesn't hesitate. The officer won't try to stop him with force, he's sure of that. And he really needs to know what's happening with Darth Ischiros, if they're expected to work together. 

Ischiros sits on his desk. He's a old human in dark robes, with large metal shoulder pads. His face is lined with concern, and – Scourge can sense it rolling off him – anger. Undirected. He wants someone to blame.

Perhaps coming here wasn't such a good idea after all. 

“Scourge!” Ischiros snaps. “Where are my apprentices?”

“The other Lords?” Scourge asks. “I don't know.”

Ischiros narrows his eyes. “I know they've been with you.”

He doesn't trust his own Lords. Interesting.

“I'm looking for them now,” Scourge says, as politely as he can manage. Then - “Do you think they were connected to the break in?”

It's dangerous to implicate a Darth's apprentices. If they're not guilty, they could get killed for nothing. If they are and the Darth doesn't buy it, you could make an enemy. But perhaps shaking things up will get Scourge the information he needs.

“I don't sense their hands in this,” Ischiros says. 

“Perhaps what information was taken will give a hint,” Scourge says, and immediately internally grimaces. That was definitely overplaying his hand.

To his surprise, Ischiros smiles. “Temple and outpost coordinates. Check them out.”

Scourge nods. “It will be done, my Lord.”

He bows and begins to leave, and Ischiros calls after him.

“Oh and – if you see my apprentices there, they must be involved. Kill them for me, would you?”

 

*************

 

Scourge has searched three outposts so far and found nothing. He's beginning to wonder if these coordinates _weren't_ what was stolen and Ischiros just wanted to get him away – or worse, move him somewhere where there's no witnesses to have him killed. He's on the last base on his list when he senses something in the Force – a gaping hole, emptiness, surrounded by a maddeningly calm hum which completely contradicts the feeling the emptiness gave him. He's sensed nothing like it before. 

Someone's here. 

He leans forward and accelerates his speederbike there to get closer, and the sound becomes louder. It's almost unpleasant to listen to in its alienness. It takes him a while for him to recognize what he's hearing with the hum – the Light Side!

He sees a figure in the jungle. A woman with an armored chainskirt is standing there, above a fallen Sith. She reaches out with the Force and -

Scourge directs his speeder at her and jumps off, activates his lightsaber, and brings it down over her head in one motion in order to slice her in half.

But the speeder deflects off a shield she put up with the Force, and she casually blocks his attack with an orange lightsaber held over her head. As he lands, she twirls it and activates its second blade. 

Scourge immediately assaults her with a flurry blows from his favored form – Djem So. She redirects each one, and, after he's overextended his reach, kicks him in the gut.

He stumbles away.

Foolish. He shouldn't have left himself open. But she also made a mistake. She should've used her lightsaber instead of her foot, and killed him when she had the chance.

Scourge reaches his hand up to choke the life out of her, but her shield in the Force is impenetrable. She goes on the attack now. He can't read her moves to anticipate; he can only react. Her unfamiliar, Jedi style of fighting, combined with her unreadable calm mask, makes her impossible to predict. 

He's pushed back, away from the fallen Sith, and away from his crashed speeder. She attacks with such speed and strength it's all he can do to not trip over his own feet.

He's beginning to realize he's in over his head. 

He leaps to a tree branch to catch his breath and come up with a new strategy. He expects her to cut it down with her lightsaber to force him back into her terms, but she merely watches him, behind that Jedi mask of calm.

“You should surrender, Sith,” she says. “You know you can't win.”

The matter-of-fact way she says it infuriates Scourge. He _will_ win, because he has to.

He leaps down from the tree, letting his anger fuel his attacks. He strikes once, twice, notices she wastes energy blocking a kick, and tries to slice her head off. 

She's ducked by time his sword is anywhere near.

His frustration goads him into stabbing towards her, and she sidesteps and spins close to him, elbowing him in the nose.

Another non-lethal strike. Is she _playing_ with him?

Scourge holds his nose with one hand and keeps his lightsaber up in guard with the other, and the Jedi sighs.

“I have better things to do than indulge you right now,” she says, and suddenly, he can't move.

It's the Force. It's trapped him in a cage. He can feel it all over his skin, smothering him without killing him. He's pinned down, like a helpless animal.

The Jedi's casual dismissal and trapping him in here fuels his rage. A wordless scream fills his mouth, and he can feel himself almost breaking through.

The Jedi has walked over to the fallen Sith. She kneels down near them, but on the opposite side to Scourge so she can keep an eye on him. She touches their head.

The Sith looks – well, they look bad. They've been electrocuted, Scourge can tell by the branch-like Force lightning scars over their arms. Which means the Jedi must have not done it - after all, Force lightning is a Sith technique.

That surprises him enough that he stops trying to resist for a moment.

The Sith is human. And wounded so severely he thought they were dead at first, but now he hears a whisper in the force. An angry, tenacious spark of life that has yet to be extinguished.

“Can you hear me?” the Jedi asks, grabbing the Sith's hand.

She hums with the Force again, and it flows through her and into the Sith, healing them.

Well if the Jedi is stupid enough to heal another Sith while she's still got one alive, that's her problem. They can just team up and kill her together.

“Awaken,” says the Jedi, pushing more Force into the Sith's body. “Revan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vette, Quinn, and Jaesa help Lycaea hit up an old acquaintance for information to use against the Emperor's Hand

Evening sets on Dromund Kaas, with the usual pouring rain tapered down to a drizzle, and Vette stands in front of the Archeliou Estate.

 

The place is enormous in her mind, but modest for a Sith Estate. It must be three or four stories high and two hundred, two hundred fifty meters long - but it’s still packed in the city, not out in the countryside where one could mount a defense against their enemies. A major no-no in Sith speak. 

 

Imperial flag banners hang down from the sides around a wide metal door, and Vette rings the bell. 

 

A service droid comes up and answers. It almost cowers before her, but must realize that as an alien with no lightsaber, she doesn’t really have the rank to send it to the scrap pile. Jaesa, however, gets a fearful glance. Jaesa’s taken on Lycaea’s fashion sense and wearing a light durasteel chestplate and half chain skirt. She has a double ended lightsaber attached to her belt, and a perpetually unreadable face - if it weren’t for her brown eyes, she’d look like a classic Sith. 

 

“Is Lord Kor in?” Jaesa asks. 

 

“Yes, my Lord, she is,” the droid says. “Though she goes by Darth Aesitor now. To correct you.” the droid stammers a little - “So you don’t go - not like she could - well -”

 

“Thank you,” Jaesa says, and though droids don’t breathe, Vette can swear she hears it sigh in relief.

 

“Is anyone else concerned with how terrified that droid is?” Vette asks once they get out of earshot.

 

Malavai Quinn - the third, and last of the people Lycaea allowed in her house - shakes his head. “That’s normal for droids,” he says.

 

“I get the feeling it’s really not.”

 

Vette doesn’t press it though. Getting in a conversation about what constitutes as normal Imperial behavior with Quinn would be a huge waste of her time.

 

The droid leads them to a waiting room. Vette throws a look around the room, taking stock of the tapestries and holostatues of Sith - dead ancestors, she presumes. Not a single one is smiling - each looks severely at the viewer, threateningly. Of course.

 

“Don’t be nosy, Vette,” Quinn says. When Vette turns around to see him, he’s sitting patiently with his hands on his lap. From a glance, he’s ever the perfect respectful Imperial - only she, Jaesa, and Lycaea know the truth - that he had conspired to kill Lycaea and set the crew working for Baras. The fact that he’s still walking around, acting like one of them after that puts her stomach in a knot - they never got along before, but now things are even worse. 

 

“I’m not nosy,” Vette says. “I’m just curious.”  She glances at one of the severe faced Sith - this one a middle aged Red Sith with a scarred face and prosthetic eye - and says “Honestly, can you blame kids for growing up evil if they’ve got all these judgemental grandpas staring at them all the time? I’d go stir-crazy.”

 

Jaesa sighs, but she does so with a certain sweetness, that lets Vette know she’s not annoyed. Quinn however, merely narrows his brow further, pinched, annoyed expression setting in.

 

“This is Lycaea’s place, right?” Vette asks, purposely poking a tapestry in hopes that it will annoy Quinn. “I mean, it’s called the  _ Archeliou _ estate. She’s an - well,  _ the _ Archeliou.”

 

“I suppose it is. I haven’t heard her speak at all about it before though,”  Quinn says.

 

Vette shrugs. “It’s not like you talk about your place around us.”

 

Before Quinn can answer, Jaesa stands up, and Vette takes that as her queue - she must have sensed someone coming. And right on schedule there they are - Lycaea Archeliou, Darth Indominus to most of the Empire, Emperor’s Wrath to a select few, and a close confidant and friend to Vette. Beside her is a middle aged Red-skinned Sith with a long face, wide hips, and disproportionately large metal shoulder pads - kind of like Baras, honestly, except they look even more disproportionately large because of her slighter frame. 

 

“Lord Wilsaam,” Lycaea says. Even though Jaesa had already been Lord for about six months now, hearing her title seems weird to Vette - she’ll always be Jaesa to her. “Vette. Lieutenant Quinn. You made it.”

 

“Yes, my Lord,” Quinn says, standing up and inclining his head slightly in a little bow. “Darth Aesitor,” he says to the other Sith. 

 

Lycaea smiles - the slow, lazy smile she almost always puts on in the presence of other Sith. Her stance shifts to put more weight on one leg, rest a hand on her hip - it would look casual, if Vette didn’t notice how close her lightsaber was to her hand. “Yeah, you never told me you made Darth,” she says. “I would have liked to hear about it.”

 

“You never call, you never write,” Darth Aesitor says. She shakes her head slightly. It’s a familiar phrase Vette has heard - well, more often from comedians and TV shows than actual middle aged women, but she gets the gist. However her voice is flat, as if she’s just reciting it, rather than caring.  “It’s a good thing you aren’t one of my own children or I’d be offended.” 

 

“Darth Aesitor has agreed to help us,” Lycaea says. “She’s keeping an eye out. And none of this ever leaves this room.”

 

Darth Aesitor nods once. Jaesa and Quinn chime in “Agreed” or “Yes, my Lord,” and Vette says “Yeah, sure.” 

 

Aesitor purses her lips - whether it’s because of her casualness or not bowing enough, Vette can’t be sure, but she doesn’t do anything to amend whatever imagined slight the Darth has. 

 

“After this,” Aesitor says, “ _ You  _ are the one who owes  _ me _ .” 

 

“And I won’t forget it,” Lycaea adds. 

 

***

 

“What was that about?” Vette asks once they’ve left the house far enough to be out of earshot. “I didn’t think you wanted to bring any other Sith on this Emperor Shenanigans, but now you’re hitting up someone we don’t even know.”

 

Lycaea narrows her eyes. “ _ I _ know her,” she says. “Though I don’t trust her. But we need someone with the knowledge Lord Kor - Darth Aesitor, whatever - has. I’d normally hit up Nox - ”

 

“But she’s missing,” Jaesa finishes. 

 

“She is missing,” Lycaea agrees.

 

“Do you think she’s dead?” Vette asks. 

 

Lycaea shrugs, Jaesa presses her lips in a line, and Quinn says, “I think Vette might be right in this case,” causing Vette to nearly stumble in surprise.

 

“What?” Quinn asks.

 

Vette grins. “Nothing. I just didn’t know you were capable of admitting I was always right.”

 

Quinn doesn’t take the bait. He just refocuses and says “She goes missing, her apprentices start sniffing around her power base. It doesn’t really take a detective.”

 

“Perhaps,” Jaesa says. “But I doubt Ashara would kill her. It’s not her usual style.”

 

Quinn furrows his brow.  _ Vette _ knows why Jaesa trusts Ashara to not kill Nox - Ashara was one of Jaesa’s contacts, when she and Lycaea started her Light Side Sith crusade to reform the Empire, and when she and Vette started their more direct crusade to make things better - killing slavers and freeing slaves. As far as Vette was concerned, Ashara was like Jaesa - a Jedi in Sith’s clothing. Someone trustworthy.

 

Quinn had no way of knowing that, of course, but she still can tell he knows  _ something’s  _ not square with Jaesa’s suggestion. It’s a lot of trust on her part, and that’s not really a Sith thing.

 

“I don’t really care whether Darth Nox is dead or not,” Lycaea says, waving a hand dismissively. Then she grimaces. “That came out bad. What I mean to say is we’d normally come to her with this, but we can’t, so it’s Lord Kor’s turn. I want to find out what’s going on with those Servants - they keep sniffing around, even though we stopped Baras’s bid over a year and a half-ago. They need to move on.”

 

“They need to get a life,” Vette adds. Not really because she thinks its a useful thing to say, but because if you can joke about something terrifying and insurmountable, sometimes that makes it seem less terrifying and insurmountable. 

 

Lycaea smiles slightly, but then scowls again - back to the severe Sith-y-ness the portraits and holostatues her home showed. “Either way,” Lycaea says, “I’m smart enough to know they just want to use me. We need to figure out how to use  _ them _ first.”

 

“It will be dangerous,” Jaesa reminds her. “If the Emperor senses your disloyalty, I don’t think even your considerable power could save you.”

 

Lycaea’s mouth goes in to a very straight line, lips pressed together tightly. On Voss, Lycaea had asked Jaesa to stay away from the Nightmare Lands and the Voice of the Emperor she was supposed to rescue. She didn’t want the Emperor to sense Jaesa’s power.

 

But even so, Jaesa had still looked - with the Force that is, with her ability to see the true nature of any being. 

 

Jaesa had told Vette it was difficult to separate the Emperor from Sel-Makor, given the latter’s power and the former’s state of only being a Voice. But what she did see worried her enough she wanted to tell Lycaea to give it up - to forget rescuing the Voice and just go AWOL.

 

Vett’s wondering if Lycaea didn’t regret picking revenge over sense by now. 

 

Lycaea doesn’t reply to Jaesa; she just keeps moving on, hand on the cusp of her lightsaber, like it always is in Dromund Kaas, the planet she grew up on.

 

Home sweet home, right?

**Author's Note:**

> This work follows mostly the plot of Shadow of Revan in game, and when it deviates from it it will be clear.


End file.
